


Kara Thrace/Ray Kowalski

by thingswithwings



Series: Kissing Meme Crossover Promptfic [3]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), due South
Genre: F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-24
Updated: 2007-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story contains torture and noncon kissing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Kara Thrace/Ray Kowalski

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains torture and noncon kissing.

The man objects, under torture, for hours. Kara's tortured men before; she's tortured this man before. The little cuts, the bucket of water, the body-blows: none of it lands in the way it should. The thing is - the thing is, it doesn't not-work, either; no Cylon would expect her to believe such a ridiculous lie.

"All right," she says, gritting her teeth pleasantly at him (at it). "All right, Mr. Kowalski. Let's go over these facts as you have given them. You are, A, not a Cylon."

"Lady, I swear, I don't even know what a Cylon is, I don't know what you been talkin about, I'm not --"

Kara gestures, and the man holding the prisoner under guard cuffs him across the mouth. "I believe I was talking. You are, A, not a Cylon, despite the striking resemblance." When there are no interruptions, she continues, "You are, B, from Earth and have never heard of the Cylons, or the war, or the Twelve Colonies. And C, you have no idea how you came to be in that cryo-chamber, on that planet."

The president ordered him airlocked twenty minutes ago. Starbuck has no reason to keep questioning him. She has every reason to want to see this model dead.

"I swear, it's the truth, I got no idea. I'm from Chicago, I'm a cop, and there's no such things as spaceships." The man's eyes are clear and pleading in a way that no Leoben's have ever been, but his voice is tired. He sounds defeated.

Kara reaches out, casually, and runs her finger down the long cut on his left cheek. She presses into it, curious, making blood well and spill. He shudders, and moans, and drops his head.

-

Later, they find more: a Boomer, and a Six, and a D'anna Biers. Their chambers have been damaged, their bodies perfectly preserved, but dead. Doc Cottle finds strange microbes in their blood, little differences that say everything. They're all labeled with names, real names, like Ray Kowalski, and with ages, histories, life stories that could never have happened on the Colonies. The evidence becomes overwhelming: they're not Cylons. And they're from Earth.

"Templates," Doc Cottle says, horrified behind his cigarette. Cylon templates. The Cylons have been to Earth before, harvesting people to use as models. When the President hears, she does not scream, nor does she throw her glass of water into the wall, nor does she slap the face of the man who told her, but she does, later, tear up the star-charts that lead them to Earth, the prophecies, the holy tracts. She burns their hope in a wastepaper basket.

-

The man - Ray Kowalski - flinches when Kara enters the room. She's alone this time, and bearing a key, and she unlocks the manacles that bind him to the floor. He seems surprised, but not as surprised as he is when she pulls him to her, when she wraps her body around his bloodied limbs and breathes into his neck.

When she pulls back, he opens his mouth. "I don't - " he begins, then quiets as she once again presses her finger to the cut on his cheek, his blood smearing onto her fingers. She kisses him then, soft and wet, her eyes open. His eyes are open, too.

"I've been looking for you," she says to him, tears forming behind her eyes but refusing to fall. "I've been looking for you for so long."


End file.
